Believe it or not, we are less than 39 km away from Santiago. We slowed it down to arrive in Santiago on Saturday, so today was a short jaunt to Arzua, famous for its soft cheese.
Kat did not get much sleep with a rather loud and ardent snorer next to her. Even her earplugs did not work. B got up at 4:30 and tried really hard to go back to sleep. It didn’t quite work. It’s a good thing that one of the best people watching pasttimes is observing the packing habits of bleary-eyed pilgrims.
Everyone has their own quirks and habits, and this is evident in how we pack, walk, and settle in for the night. Some folks roll up each item of their clothing, carefully placing them in a pre-ordained order. Others shove their belongings in as tight a space as possible.
People also have different walking styles and paces. Some walk with two poles (click, click), some with a long staff, some with free, swinging arms. Although we may speed up a bit or slow down a bit when chatting with a companion, it is ever critical to be comfortable in one’s own skin and one’s own pace.
If anything, the Camino reminds us to remain flexible and learn, but not change for someone else or risk injury to “keep up with the Joneses.” Because we each have a natural gait, we risk injury if we try to speed up slow down beyond our own paces. This is an important reminder for us in the “real world” to not feel pressured to stress ourselves out by trying to outdo someone else or hold ourselves back from our true potential.
We all walk to a different beat. And we face different challenges. Z is extremely comfortable walking to her own beat and has already shown ridiculous guts and physical strength on this trip. If you try and give her attitude, this undercover hardcore lady with the best pedicure on the Camino will bring you down a notch. Kat is the ever organized, observant walker, making sure we have places to sleep, figuring out our route and kilometers (If it was left to B, we would be in Portugal or Germany…left/right, what’s the difference?), and translating those complex Spanish sentences. Between her little toe blistering through blisters, spazzing back, and armful of mosquito bites, she has not lost her Italian sensibilities and is sure to take a cortado break (or two…or three). B is comfortable walking on her own, getting up at pre-dawn and finishing by mid-morning, enjoying the search-for-the-arrow game, and being the first in line at the albergue. It seems her favorite walking companions are 20-something year old, 6-foot young men (and Juan, the teacher from the Canary Islands). Alex, our brother, aka Rocky (who but an Italian man brings a terry-cloth robe on the Camino?), walks with these funky shoes that are not quite for trekking. He definitely walks to his own beat.
So we all have our quirks, and we all own them. Today, we arrived in quirky Arzua where we waited in the drizzling rain for the albergue to open.
Thank goodness, we were there earlier as the 46 places filled up quickly. How strange it will be to sleep in a non-bunk bed and shower with a door. The albergue municipal, for 5€, is airy and clean, with funky stone walls and high ceilings The snorer is here. And he has the bunk beneath Kat tonight. Poor Kat.
While we each have our own walks, we all like to eat and to share meals. We found a fantastic restaurant – the food gets better and better. Huge cauldrons of warm lentil soup on this chilly, rainy day, jamon serrano, and the famous Queso de Arzua.
This cheese, Kat noted is similiar to a famoys Sardinian cheese, is smooth, creamy, and simply delicious.
A rest, and we expect a simple dinner tonight and hopefully, some sleep with our other 35 bunkmates, all of whom have their own styles, walks, and quirks.
While we walk together, we walk alone. While we walk alone, we walk together.